


you're like the ocean, you pull like the tide

by Recluse



Category: Free!
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, an actual not onesided makoto/haruka fic, limited edition, one chance only
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 02:35:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Recluse/pseuds/Recluse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's always been getting caught up in his pace, following his whirlpools, but it's never been forced. More like the pull of the sea, telling him to follow, and he does, because he wants to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're like the ocean, you pull like the tide

Something had tugged gently on his heart for years, whispering little things, like  _touch_  or _reach_  or  _speak_ , little things that tell him to draw Makoto closer. He's gotten accustomed to it, pushing it back when it starts breaking socially acceptable, listening when he can do so without getting an odd stare or Makoto's gentle, confused laughter.

He's not really sure what to call it.

They may be close, but Haruka can't fully read his mind, can't tell if Makoto gets those little commands from the corner of his mind the way he does. The most he notices is the way Makoto will get flustered at times, when Haruka gets close, or touches him of his own accord, gentle taps or the occasional lean, and he doesn't look into that, doesn't think about what it means because he finds himself looking elsewhere, a little flustered himself.

When Makoto reaches his hand out to pull Haruka out of pools, bathtubs, Haruka hears the words play in his head, sometimes softly, sometimes urgently, sometimes connected to a thick sensation in his throat that rises up, makes him want to press forward and do something, but he doesn't know what. It's not a bad feeling, but it's startling and uncomfortable and sometimes, when he sees Makoto's face, same soft smile as always, he feels a flush crawl up from the floor, wrap around his legs, slide across his chest, up onto his neck, latch on like a mouth.

The imagery is a little too much. He looks for another metaphor, but doesn't get the time to before Makoto taps him on the shoulder.

"Haru-chan, lets go to the roof to eat lunch, okay?" He holds up a box, wrapped in blue this time, smiling. Haruka nods, walking out before Makoto has gotten up, ignoring his, "Haru, wait a minute!"

He catches up, like usual, around halfway to the staircase, sighing before handing Haruka a box - he's been making him lunch for a long time now, Haruka takes a moment to reminisce, when he'd told Makoto his parents were moving, Makoto had offered to make lunch for him. Haruka had refused initially, but Makoto had brought him lunch anyways, and as always, Haruka had simply accepted it after a while.

It was always like that with Makoto. It was almost frustrating, the way he managed to drag Haruka along, yet never forcefully, more like a gentle pull that Haruka got caught in time after time, like the tide.

They reach the rooftop with Makoto chatting about Rei and Nagisa and the nearest swim meet, Haruka nods his way along the conversation, leaning against the wall, popping open the top of his lunchbox. Makoto sits down next to him, and they're side by side, with water bottles in between them.

Haruka has never been fond of other people touching him, nor ever been fond of touching others, physical affection has always been a bit of an uncomfortable experience. So when the word _touch_ comes to mind, he blinks, re-focuses on reality, and sees Makoto's hand resting on the space between them, behind the water bottles. He lets his hand drift down, settle on the skin for just a second, until Makoto pulls his hand away, face turning red.

"Ah, sorry Haru-chan!" He laughs, scratching the back of his head.

Haruka shrugs. "It's fine. Your hand was there first."

For reasons that Haruka knows, but doesn't acknowledge, Makoto seems to turn even redder at that. "Ah, but-"

"It's fine." He picks his hand up off the roof floor, and feels...disappointed, in a way. Makoto doesn't look at him, still red, stuffs his mouth with something and sets his hand down gingerly, closer to his side, so that Haruka's hand probably won't touch if he puts it down again.

/ /

They're practicing in the pool when Rei, in some kind of freak accident that Nagisa confesses to have probably started, knocks Makoto into Haruka, and they end up floating underwater, staring at each other, a jumble of limbs. One of Makoto's arms is under his arm, and their legs are tangled, and Makoto is wide-eyed. Haruka stares back, a single second where the both of them stare at each other, startled, and Makoto's hand hesitantly reaches up towards Haruka's face, and Haruka doesn't move. He just keeps looking at Makoto, caught in green eyes, but at the moment his hand brushes his cheek, Nagisa dives down and they disassemble, breaking for air.

"I was worried you know!" Nagisa pouts, shouting at them. "You didn't come up!"

Makoto laughs it off. "Ah, we were surprised, that's why."

Rei apologizes repeatedly, and Makoto laughs it off again, rubbing the back of his neck, telling them to be more careful. Haruka tells them not to do it again, and to definitely not interrupt his swimming next time, and takes note that the back of Makoto's neck is deep red, his ears a slightly lighter pink. He dives back into the pool to cool the heat in his own cheeks, wondering at the burn, the traces of heat still left where their skin had touched.

Makoto apologizes to him on the way back, and Haruka brushes it off. "Not your fault."

"Yeah, but, I'm sorry anyways. I know you don't like to be interrupted when you're swimming." His mouth quirks up a little, and Haruka knows they're alone, so he lets himself smile just a little bit. Makoto looks thrilled at it.

"Haru-chan, it's been a while since I've seen you smile like that." He says, a grin on his face. Haruka turns his head to the side.

"It's just a smile." He mutters softly. Makoto laughs a little.

"But it's such a rare occurrence." He's teasing. Haruka tells him to shut up, and he complies, with a soft little smile and eyes that pull him in, tell him to stay. He looks away, and the rest of the walk is spent in a comfortable silence, except when the back of their hands brush near the steps and Makoto draws back like he's been stung, though he plays it off. Haruka knows though, and he knows Makoto knows he knows, and when he waves goodbye, Haruka, from the top of the steps, watches him press the back of his hand to his mouth, sees the blush spread across Makoto's face. When he sees it, he doesn't quite understand why(yes he does, but it's a strange feeling that he's never felt quite this strong), but he blushes too, a tint so light that he could blame it on the sunset.

Haruka does not see the way Makoto worries his lip. Haruka isn't even looking at his lips, he walks up the stairs and does not, repeat, does not, think about his childhood friend's lips.

/ /

It's Sunday, so he's not really expecting Makoto to come in, but he puts on his trunks anyways because he does have a little shame, especially as of late. Makoto usually comes by in the afternoon, after spending time with his siblings, and Haruka is rarely still in the bath(he does have to eat, at some point), but still, he washes quickly and then grabs his suit and slips it on and lounges, water slowly cooling.

He ends up falling asleep, drifting in the ocean, gentle wave after wave, endless sea from all sides, a killer whale underneath him. He swims next to it, sees a sliver of green in their eyes, the waves come crashing further, but he rides them out, whale constantly by his side, both of them moving by the current.

"...Haru-chan, wake up."

Blearily he turns, finds Makoto next to him, a mildly exasperated expression on his face.

"Haru-chan, it's two in the afternoon."

"Oh." He blinks, sits up a bit, the water cold, stirring around him. Makoto sighs.

"Haru-chan, you're going to catch a cold again." He scolds, handing Haruka a towel, and Haruka rises to grab it, slipping at the last second, still a little sleepy. Makoto shouts, panics, reaches out to grab him and they fall on the floor in a heap, Makoto skidding a little on his elbows, Haruka's head on his chest.

The both of them pause. There are five seconds in which Haruka doesn't look up, stares down at Makoto's striped shirt that's getting all wet and thinks, for once, of absolutely nothing, and feels, for once, too much. The position is awkward. He can feel Makoto breathe, the rise and fall of his chest, the too quick heartbeat that seems to belong to the both of them, the slick way his legs slide down across his skin, getting his shorts wet. He drains the blush out his cheeks, grabs the towel off the floor and scrubs his head vigorously. Makoto still seems a little dazed, propped up on his elbows, staring at nothing.

"S- Sorry about your clothes." Haruka mumbles. It's not usual for him to act like this, but he seems to have forgotten how to act, forgotten his own personality for this moment. It's coming back to him when Makoto says, "Ah, it's no problem, I've dealt with worse, I'm glad it's just water, hahaha," and his voice is a little higher than usual, and Haruka doesn't even have to look to know Makoto is flushed, whole face red.

"Uhm, Haru-chan, I'm going to go into your kitchen, okay? I'll make something, fish I guess." Haruka nods, the sounds of scrabbling against tile echo around him, Makoto getting up and practically running out of the room. That's when Haruka allows himself to blush, towel over his head.

This is getting harder to ignore. At that moment, the force of the words in the back of his mind had reached a new level, practically screaming at him to lean closer, rest his head on Makoto's chest, he fumbles a bit with the towel when he thinks about it.

They spend the rest of the day a little bit awkwardly, doing homework, passing notes across the table, though Haruka finds himself wanting to sit closer - which is ridiculous, because they've always sat across each other from the table, and really, there isn't any difference between sitting across the table versus sitting next to him, but Haruka wants it anyways. Something about Makoto is suddenly very dear to him, the stutter of his words, the shyness in his smile, the way he reminds Haruka of comfort.

Then again, Makoto's fingertips brush against his when they pass notes back and forth, and that small electricity feels incredibly good, as long as he doesn't think any further about what it means.

Makoto glances at him when he thinks that, at the very least, Haruka isn't paying that much attention. He's usually wrong though, because Haruka is paying more attention than he usually does, and they end up spending an hour extra on homework because they keep mucking up the problems, spending more time accidentally catching each other's eye.

/ /

Haruka is fully aware of what exactly is going on between him and Makoto, except he isn't actually, not really. He understands, reasonably, what it is, but the feelings that come with it are extremely unexpected, as is the intensity. He's never dealt with this kind of thing before, he's known for years that Makoto has looked at him just a little bit differently, but this struggle with himself is something else entirely. Before, when he'd realized why exactly Makoto looked at him like that, he had ignored it, waiting for Makoto to lose whatever he was feeling. There had been tiny whispers in him then, to reach back, easily quashed, considered hormones, but now it's not so easy. In fact, Haruka thinks it's gotten near impossible to ignore.

Makoto still looks at him like that, and Haruka feels his stare now, gets a chill down his spine, knowing that his green eyes are trained on him. Makoto's stare has never been...Unwelcome, to say, it never made him feel one way or another, but now it makes unwanted feelings creep over his body, an aching type of heat that likes to settle in places it really shouldn't. That tendril-like flush that used to rise from the floor now lies within him, wrapping around his bones, constraining his body, making every small touch overstimulating. He can hardly grasp Makoto's hand without gasping one way or another, brushes it off with tiredness or swallows it before it escapes.

Makoto knows too, that's the most confusing aspect of the whole thing, Haruka knows Makoto knows that he's aware of him, they're both aware of each other, but neither of them do anything about it. It's a little maddening, having Makoto stand next to him half naked to swim, and the first thought Haruka has instead of finally getting to swim is thoughts of touching, reaching, shortening the distance between them down to nothing.

Haruka knows that Makoto knows because he gets flustered or turns red when Haruka gasps softly, and Nagisa has made so many comments about him getting sunburn that Haruka can practically recite them. Sometimes he catches Makoto swallowing, sees his palms clench, hears how hoarse he gets, "Ah, Haru-chan, your stroke is still the same", except the both of them know that it isn't Haruka's stroke he's watching, it's just Haruka. The tension is so heavy that Gou - Kou - looks back and forth between them, unsure of what to say. She probably thinks it's competitive, Haruka reasons, but he doesn't actually know what she thinks, and he doesn't actually care. Most of his thoughts are taken up by Makoto, and how an overwhelming affection threatens to screw his ability to think, and how walking to school has become an endeavor for both of them, with accidental-but-not-really hand touches, hot flushes on the both of their faces, avoiding the subject.

He's going to blow soon, if he has to bear with this much longer. Makoto seems to be rotating between caution and desire, and Haruka doesn't know what he's feeling, but he knows that he wants Makoto to touch him, wherever, just keep his skin on Haruka's and taste him, he really shouldn't have looked through that porn magazine one time. It's giving him ideas.

He very nearly loses it at school when Makoto brushes his hand gently over his shoulder, with a face so full of longing that Haruka almost moves forward, not even sure what he would do until he got there. He's been called impatient before, but frankly, he considers himself incredibly patient in this respect, killing the sensation when Makoto draws back, smiles naturally, asks him if he wants to eat on the rooftop again, and his eyes are still filled with want. It's nearly unfair.

Haruka nods, grabbing the lunch off the top of the desk, walking out the door, and Makoto doesn't yell at him to wait, instead gets up and run-walks to his side. They don't speak.

It's such a charged silence that several students look at them in worry, but Haruka doesn't really care, not when Makoto is right there, and Haruka would do almost anything to dive into a pool right now and cool off. Instead they climb the steps, with Makoto trying to make small talk, trying being the important word, as he keeps stumbling over words, glancing at Haruka like Haruka doesn't notice, except he does and the look he's giving is making Haruka want, for once in his life, want someone else.

They sit against the wall, a few other students out and about. The space between them is a natural space for people who are simply friends, but that's not what they are. There's something much more complex that's been built up behind them, and it's threatening to explode.

Haruka pops open the top of his lunchbox. Makoto opens his gently, lays his hand down behind the water bottles again, except this time Haruka knows. He's always known what Makoto thinks.

He places his hand on top. Makoto doesn't move this time.

/ /

They don't exactly race up the steps, but their steps the way home are faster, and they don't chat. They're practically running in walking form by the time they get past the first set of stairs, crashing a little unceremoniously through Haruka's front door and then stopping, staring at each other, slowly slipping off their shoes. Haruka finds himself slipping out of his blazer, and they're about three steps from his room when Makoto touches his shoulder again and asks, "Is this really-" before Haruka kisses him and he shuts up. He shuts up and brings his hands to cup Haruka's cheeks, pulls him closer, hand in his hair, and it's clumsy and a little messy and vaguely Haruka remembers back when they were fourteen, they'd kissed once, but much more innocently than this. That had been a test of what it was like, this was more like being swept away into it, he grips the front of Makoto's shirt with one hand and cards through his hair with the other.

They break apart, hands still in hair, wrapped up in shirts, on skin, soft pants of humid air. Makoto looks like he's about to cry. Haruka leans up, kisses the corner of his eye because he feels like he should, and Makoto's hand travels to his shoulder, squeezes gently.

"H-Haru-chan..." He looks hard at Haruka then, searching his face, eyes desperate. "Can I...Do you...?"

Haruka finds himself getting swept up again, but he doesn't dislike it at all, feels almost like he's swimming, submerged in water, that's what Makoto has always felt like. That's what Makoto has always felt like, he realizes with a little start, that's why he gets caught by Makoto's pace. He's like the ocean.

He doesn't know how to convey all of that, the sudden realization, instead he opts to kiss him again, a sighed "Yes" that could mean anything, but they can read each other's minds like this, and Makoto buries his face into Haruka's neck, hugs him tightly, whispers, "Thank you" and all kinds of little murmurs that embarrass him, because his affection isn't some great honor. He's almost ordinary, after all. When he tells Makoto that though, Makoto laughs gently and tells him that it is, in fact, a great honor, that he's wanted it so bad for so long that getting it is like being given the right to live in the water, and Haruka understands what he means but blushes anyways, muttering that he doesn't love the water that much.

Makoto laughs again, giddy, and Haruka pulls him close because the words are jumbling in his head, _touch_ and _reach_ and now _kiss_ and _hold_ , and their lips meet again, not quite right, but not wrong. His bottom lip is caught between Makoto's, and they slide, finding the angles where they meet up right, kiss again and again until he thinks his lips are swollen, licks the corner of his mouth. They kiss open mouthed, manage to wander their way to Haruka's room, slowly sink onto the floor, Makoto on top of him, Haruka putting all his weight on his elbows, kissing Makoto with all he's got.

It's like swimming, but hazier, wet heat like the humidity of the shower after, he pulls at Makoto's blazer, which ends up in some corner of the room. Makoto's hand wanders onto Haruka's cheek, thumb stroking circles into the skin. Haruka sits up, pulls his shirt off, pulls Makoto closer to him and pulls his off as well.

They spend a strange, uncountable number of minutes just staring, breathing, waiting for the other to move. Makoto's eyes are dark, he swallows, then leans forward with such a force that Haruka lies back on his elbows again, focuses on just this kiss, feels Makoto's hand roam over his skin and lets out a gasp when his touch drags up from his stomach to his throat. Makoto whispers, "Sorry."

Haruka shakes his head. "It was nice", the words fading out when he sees Makoto's face, intent written all over, want and need and things he's never, ever seen Makoto show. He reaches one hand to touch his cheek, pushes himself forward and kisses near his ear, and Makoto shivers, makes a little noise, bends down and kisses Haruka's neck, bites gently at the skin and sucks, and _ah_. Haruka keeps one arm wrapped around Makoto's neck, letting him suck on his skin, pushes his hips up because he can't take it anymore, and Makoto's shocked little gasp makes him smile.

He stops smiling when Makoto pushes his hips down, the friction making him ache, a choked noise escapes him, close to a whine. They pull back and pause again, but Makoto doesn't hesitate at all this time, reaches for Haruka's belt and undoes it, trembling. Haruka pushes himself up enough to reach for Makoto's belt and undoes it without shaking, though he fumbles with the buckle, but he blames Makoto for that, his mouth leaving trails of kisses across his neck and shoulder, sucking on the skin gently, like he wants to remember the taste.

Their pants slowly come off as they rut against each other, and Haruka is wearing his swimsuit, which makes Makoto laugh a little, low and breathy. He peels it off, and Haruka, not to be outdone, reaches for the fabric of Makoto's boxers and tugs.

Strangely enough, Haruka has a flashback to when they were younger, the one time they had compared sizes, with Makoto bright red, Haruka a less obvious pink. They'd been about the same then.

He's stops thinking when their dicks touch, already a little wet from pre-cum, sticky, sliding against each other. He thrusts his hips up when Makoto thrusts down, and they're in sync, it seems, because every motion makes him shiver, gasp, the feeling of Makoto's cock on his stomach, his kisses, arms locked around Haruka, palms on the floor, trapping him under, his knees and calves bumping into Haruka's when they move. His tongue traces his teeth, explores the corners of his mouth, leaves Haruka breathless and at his mercy, sucking on his tongue. It's sloppy and rushed and desperate, Makoto whispering his name into his mouth, into his skin. The vibration of his voice chills Haruka's spine, makes him reach up and wrap both arms around Makoto's neck and whisper his name back, hips pushing, leaving his own mark on the skin behind his ear, tasting the sweat that forms on his neck.

When Makoto move faster, Haruka follows, both of them feeling the twitches, the uncontrollable jump of their hips, and with their cocks pressed together they cum. Haruka can feel Makoto tremble, sees the way he bites his lip, flushed, a mess, and kisses the corner of his mouth, too lost in the feeling of orgasm to aim properly. They collapse on the floor with a breath, little noises from the back of their throats.

Makoto's face is nestled in Haruka's hair. Haruka stares up at the ceiling and wonders how he'd been caught like this, momentarily ignoring the thrum in his chest that tells him he's actually happy. Makoto looks up at him.

"...Haru-chan?" He asks, hoarse, swallows. "Was...Was that okay?"

"Yeah." Haruka murmurs. Makoto seems relieved, though uncertain, slowly pulling himself off Haruka, sitting upright. Haruka stays on the floor, turning to look at Makoto, who's looking at him until their eyes meet.

"I, uhm, I." Makoto says, staring at his hands. Haruka realizes they haven't really said it. "I-"

"I like you." Haruka says, before Makoto can finish. He thinks about the little whispers from years before. "I probably have for a while."

Makoto nearly falls apart, mouth agape, face fully flushed again. "What- But- You- Really?"

Because they're alone, and Haruka trusts Makoto more than he can explain, he laughs, teeth showing. "Is it really that surprising?"

"Kind of!" Makoto says, but laughs too, looking at Haruka again.

"I like you, I've always really liked you, Haru-chan." He says quietly, eyes fond. Haruka turns his head, embarrassed.

Makoto is smiling still, in the same overly fond way he has for ages, and Haruka can't help but wonder if much will change.

Later, they take a bath together, and Haruka thinks yes, something has changed. But it feels almost better than being in the water. Almost.


End file.
